


Poinsettias

by katmarajade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first night after the students have left for Christmas hols when Professor Neville Longbottom walks into Greenhouse 3 and finds none other than Draco Malfoy sitting on the floor (a silk scarf between his fancy trousers and the dirt-covered tile, of course) staring morosely at the large wall of poinsettias.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poinsettias

It's the first night after the students have left for Christmas hols when Professor Neville Longbottom walks into Greenhouse 3 and finds none other than Draco Malfoy sitting on the floor (a silk scarf between his fancy trousers and the dirt-covered tile, of course) staring morosely at the large wall of poinsettias.

Neville makes a squeaking noise in his surprise and Draco immediately turns, all traces of his previous sadness hidden away, and his usual annoying, superior sneer firmly in place.

"What are you doing here?" Neville asks, utterly baffled as to why Draco bloody Malfoy had come all the way to Hogwarts to sit in a humid student greenhouse.

Draco looks shifty for a while, before the sneer fades into something more resigned. "I like the poinsettias."

"You like the poinsettias," Neville echoes disbelievingly.

"Yes, I like them. Is that so terribly difficult for you to fathom, Longbottom? They're beautiful and traditional, if you must know. We used to have the maids cover the entire foyer with them … before … But Father didn't want them this year. He said that they were too ostentatious, but I don't think they are. Do you?"

Neville stares at Draco for a minute, unable to reconcile the fact that the boy who had been such an elitist, bullying arse during their school days was now sitting in Neville's greenhouse, talking to Neville like they were old friends, asking him whether he thought poinsettias an uppity sort of plant.

Recovering quickly as a strangely vulnerable look comes into Draco's eyes, Neville answers. "They're not ostentatious at all. Beautiful though, aren't they? I find them comforting myself. They're quite misunderstood, poinsettias are. Everyone believes that they're terribly poisonous and dangerous, but they're not—not to humans at least. Unless you eat a whole bleeding lot of them, that is. So people tend not to look that close at them, and they don't see them for what they are. Most people don't realize that the red parts aren't even flowers at all—they're leaves. Poinsettias hide their flowers away, distracting would-be enemies with bright-colored bitterness."

Draco appears heartened by Neville's musings and responds in his usual haughty manner. "I like them—beautiful and dangerous. They strike terror into the hearts of lesser plants who can only aspire to be as grand, and they make the animals who would harm them learn fear and respect. It's a good Slytherin plant, Longbottom."

Neville can't help but smile at that. "You know, I think you're right."

"Of course I'm right," Draco sniffs.

Neville studies his guest. Draco is still thin with the same pale complexion, white blond hair, and slightly pointed features. He is still haughty and a bit snide, still proud and refined.

But he's different too. They all are, after the war. There is a loneliness hiding behind the aloof expression, a vulnerability masquerading as confidence, a sort of brokenness that is so well polished over that you can barely notice the gaping hole underneath the deceiving shine.

"Do you want a cup of cider? I've got a cauldron full simmering in my office, just through there." Neville points out a small door on the other side of the greenhouse.

"Did you make it yourself? Because I don't really trust you with a cauldron, Longbottom—too many years sharing a Potions classroom with you. I do have some sense of self-preservation, you know."

But with a sigh, Draco rises gracefully from his awkward seated position and follows Neville. He accepts the invitation with a thoroughly put-upon air, but Neville sees the loneliness underneath it and lets him keep up his silly, proud charade.

They spend the evening drinking cider (spiked with a fair bit of firewhisky) in Neville's cramped office. Draco somehow manages to lounge regally, even when seated on a hurriedly- transfigured garden chair. They strike up an easy banter and Neville finds that Draco is quite witty, once he's able to see past the defensive barbs and prickly façade. Once he's able to look beyond that, Draco's not nearly as mean as Neville always believed.

Neville finally sends him home with an armful of potted poinsettias and a promise to stop back for tea sometime soon. Draco sniffs and makes an off-hand comment about being terribly busy, but Neville just smiles. Draco will be back—Neville's sure of it.


End file.
